


My Boy

by gongiwoo



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Blood and Gore, Dubious Consent, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Serial Killer Shane Madej, Serial Killers, Suicide Notes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:33:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24455980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gongiwoo/pseuds/gongiwoo
Summary: Shane kills.And Ryan finds himself intrigued.And it will kill him, one of these days.
Relationships: Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej
Comments: 37
Kudos: 230





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The serial killer AU that has been done like 40 times in this fandom but whaTEVER.
> 
> Just yeeting this out into the void, I hate it, soooo.

This boy just won’t stop fucking screaming. It’s impressive really, Shane thinks. Most of his boys, pass out from pain by this point. He watches an equally as impressive large snot bubble pop. His flushed and swollen face is slick with tears. They trickle down and soak through his underwear, which Shane had stuffed into his mouth two minutes ago in attempt to shut up him up. Yet he’s still screaming, despite how muffled it is. And it’s starting to piss him off, starting to ruin to mood he’s created here.

He takes a blood-soaked gloved hand and strokes his knuckles down against his cheek, it leaves a trail of red. “Calm down sweetheart.”

He’d wanted to take this slow, savour the moment, these things can’t be rushed. He’s only a gentleman after all. He’d been careful not to hit any major arteries. He doesn’t like it when they just bleed out on him, leaving him high a dry. But the noise is grating and he’s not enjoying it all that much anymore. This is probably not going to worthy of touching himself over when he gets home. The tightness in his jeans is entirely gone. He slashes his thigh, perhaps a little too deeply but hey, he’s really pissed off. His screams only get less muffled and-

Shut up.

He rams the knife into the middle of his boy’s chest, it makes a faint crunching noise and her sternum shatters. Shane twists it once, then again, his boy’s body convulses and there’s a spurt of blood that nearly gets him in the eye. And then finally, finally, he’s quiet.

* * *

He’s late to work the next day.

He dodges questions about why he looks so tired. Nobody seems too phased; he’s built up such a carefree persona that nobody is particularly suspicious of his nonchalant answer about having a shitty mattress. Devon even gives him a recommendation for a mattress place she went too. He pretends to actually give a shit about her opinion. He makes some joke about finding a mattress for somebody of his obscene height and she laughs. It’s just a regular Tuesday morning as far as he’s concerned. After pouring himself some black coffee he arrives at his desk to find Ryan hunched over his phone at the desk next to his. He’s gnawing on his lip, something Shane can’t stand. Ryan clearly hasn’t noticed he’s there and suddenly a hilarious opportunity has presented itself.

He sneaks up behind Ryan and gently whispers in his ear, “Boo.”

Ryan launches himself into the air, phone flying out of his hand, and Shane cackles.

“Jesus- what the fuck Shane,” Ryan, red faced and almost pouting.

Shane grins, “Who, me? Nah it must have been a g-g-ghost.”

Ryan rolls his eyes but there’s a smile tugging at his lips, “You’re an asshole.”

Ryan picks up his phone from the floor and examines it like he’s looking for damage. Shane is kind of thankful that he didn’t break it, Ryan goes through phones faster than Shane goes through men. He doesn’t particularly want to listen to Ryan bitch and complain to him for the rest of the day about how he has to buy a new one. Weirdly, Ryan then goes straight back to scrolling on it and Shane can’t help the pang of irritation that Ryan has stopped paying attention to him.

A rogue fantasy pops into his head where he pulls Ryan by his hair to make him pay attention. His fingers twitch in anticipation but he ignores it, instead opting to ask, “Something really interesting on that screen?”

Ryan looks up from his phone and Shane has the weirdest sense of Deja vu before it occurs to him that Ryan’s eyes are the same colour as his boy’s eyes last night. He prefers Ryan’s, they have little honey flecks in the them and an overwhelming warmth. It then occurs to him that he’s gawking, and he quickly moulds his face into an expression that is more acceptable. He hopes Ryan didn’t notice his little slip up

“Just reading some police statements,” says Ryan shakily, “You know they found another body early this morning?”

Huh, that was quick.

He is admittedly very lazy as far a body dumping goes.

“Well shit,” he replies with the appropriate amount of surprise, “Do they think it’s that same guy?’

Ryan looks rather visibly shaken up and Shane knows that this would be the point that he would feel guilty, if that was something possible for him to feel. But the feeling never comes.

“Yeah, it fits the profile of the LA Butcher perfectly.”

He hates that fucking name. Ryan exhales deeply and begin to fidget with his hands, “It was like, right near my place too I- I’m kinda freaking out a bit.”

The irony of Ryan freaking out with the killer in the room is not lost of him. He would be lying if he said he hadn’t known exactly where he was last night. It would be stupid to act like Ryan hadn’t crossed his mind at least once that night. Something about doing it so close to Ryan added an extra layer to the whole experience, enhanced it in a way he couldn’t quite explain but definitely enjoyed. He can feel himself preening in Ryan’s attention, even if Ryan doesn’t know that Shane is the one he’s giving his attention too. He gently places a hand on Ryan’s shoulder and begins to rub tiny circles into the fabric of his t-shirt. It’s a bold move, but he feels Ryan untense beneath his fingers, letting out a tiny contented sigh. It’s the closest thing to empathy Shane’s broken brain can produce, but he does feel a little satisfaction as Ryan calms down.

“You’re just getting in your head little guy,” he says softly, as if speaking to a small and terrified animal, “Your safe, it’s fine. They’ll probably catch this guy soon anyway.”

Ryan bites his lip again and fuck he won’t be safe for long if he keeps on doing that.

“Y-yeah you’re probably right,” Ryan sighs, “It’s just, there’s been thirteen people in the last couple months I don’t understand how they don’t have any leads yet.”

Shane just shrugs and it’s mostly genuine because, honestly, he doesn’t understand how he hasn’t been caught yet either.

“Try not to think about it too hard Ry, you’ll just stress yourself out.”

* * *

It hadn’t started with Ryan, not really, not at first. It had been sexual, an extreme fetish that went way to far. That had started with consensual and willing partners and had just escalated. Because nothing was ever enough, they could never offer him enough. He needed the white knuckled thrill of watching the life drain from their bodies. If he had the ability to give a fuck about how other people felt then maybe he could have been content with super kinky sex.

But there lies the other half of the equation.

He doesn’t have the ability to give a fuck about how other people feel.

It’s a thing that’s gotten him in trouble a lot. Something he’s become very good at hiding now. Everything is really a transaction to get what he wants, to get from point A to point B. He’s never understood why he’s supposed to deny himself the things he wants. He can’t really understand the point of that.

If he wants something and he can get it then _why shouldn’t he?_

Of course, he’s aware now that nobody agrees with him on this. That he should care, even if he can’t really figure why that is. He also realized pretty quickly that he had to make everybody around think he did care. He’d spent most of high school perfecting his “loveable goofball” act, with some trial and error. By the time he’d gotten into college it was basically foolproof, a perfectly formed mask he could wear around and still get what he wanted, just more subtly. He’d even managed to pull off relationships although they were short lived. He had learnt the lesson that people are really into monogamy a little too late. But more importantly he’d learnt that he likes to be the centre of attention.

A lot.

He will do anything for it.

Because there are so many easy ways to get attention and Shane just has a habit of being a bit lazy. Super lazy. People are simple, they respond to dramatics and grand displays.

People respond to suicide threats at 3am.

Of course, you can only pull that trick so many times, on so many girlfriends and boyfriends, before people start to get a little antsy. So he’d pulled it one too many times and that girl was feeling ballsy enough to take the whole thing a little too seriously and then suddenly he’s in a psych-ward with his fucking parents in waiting room and some shrink in front of him. And the mask had slipped, a little too much, and the shrink had seen right through him. They were just big labels that meant fucking nothing to him. That bitch of a therapist could make up whatever fancy stories she wanted because she didn’t know what the fuck she was talking about. Thankfully, he’d managed to fool the second shrink they palmed him off to enough and they let him go.

But it had been dicey, too dicey, and he decided that perhaps there were better ways to get his kicks.

It was a happy accident that his love of attention and killing people were so perfectly matched. Which is how Ryan somehow got mixed up in this. Because when he met Ryan it relit the flame. Ryan makes him laugh, Ryan is genuinely interesting, Ryan is sexy, sexy as all hell. Ryan makes his cold and dead heart perk up a little. When he has Ryan’s attention, he’s in heaven, it’s as good as slicing people up. Sometimes even better. Then he had realized that Ryan was into murder mysteries and serial killers and it was truly fucking perfect. The way he researched meticulously, with such precision and care and attention. He wanted Ryan to look at him like he looked at that damn computer screen, wanted his undivided attention at any and all times. He’d only killed one or two people at that point sporadically, just to see what it felt like, just to finally get off for once. But now he had real purpose, and once the bodies started piling up and Ryan to notice of a serial killer on the loose, he was hooked.

He’s been hooked ever since.

When he walks into work one day and finds Ryan at his desk researching his killings he practically swoons. Ryan’s dark brows are furrowed in concentration and his tongue is poking out slightly through his teeth and Shane feels a little drunk off it. He plops down at his own desk and tries his very damn best not to act too strange. He opens a new word document and tries, desperately, to work on his new project.

It’s going okay until Ryan says out of the blue, “This guy is so damn ballsy.”

“Who is?” asks Shane like he doesn’t already know.

“LA Butcher,” replies Ryan and Shane still really fucking hates that name but it’s fine, so long as Ryan is paying attention to him, “They can’t get any DNA off him yet he’s dumping bodies in public places like he doesn’t give a shit.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah it’s super weird,” continues Ryan, “Also all the victims are young gay men, which is very uh Jeffrey Dahmer don’t you think?”

He tries not to smile at the comparison, “Yeah, totally.”

“Maybe it’s some kind of hate crime thing,” says Ryan, “Or maybe it’s a totally psychosexual thing, like he’s getting off on it or something. You know his most recent victim had his underwear shoved down his throat.”

He didn’t shove it all the way down the guys throat, he only stuffed it in his mouth.

_Don’t be so dramatic Ryan._

“You’re really into this guy huh?” Shane asks and he’s trying to come off as teasing but really he’s just fishing for attention.

Ryan flushes almost instantly and it completely and utterly ruins him.

"W-what?” Ryan splutters, “No- the guys a fucking monster. Total sicko. I just want him to be caught so I’m not terrified all the time.”

Shane understands the phrase seeing red in that moment.

Because that’s the only colour he sees.

There’s a ringing in his ears and a lump in his throat because this is what Ryan thinks of him. It makes something stir a way that he’s never quite felt before. Like tiny daggers slicing him open. But with that comes a rage, hot and red and bubbling. He had done this for Ryan and now Ryan is throwing it back in his face. Maybe if Ryan would just give him his undying devotion, worship him properly, he wouldn’t have to do this.

He’s grips his mouse so hard his knuckles turn white.

“Shane, dude, are you okay?” That’s Ryan’s voice, cutting through the scarlet fog.

“I’m fine.”

He knows it sounds robotic and forced but he has so little energy to keep the mask on right now. He stares at his screen. He tries to breath evenly.

“You just went super weird there, is something wrong?” Ryan asks and it’s sickeningly sincere, laced with concern like he _cares._

The mask is slipping and Shane needs time and space to compose himself so he doesn’t do something impulsive, like pin Ryan down.

“I have to go.”

* * *

He’s not proud of his kill that night.

It’s sloppy, unnecessarily gory even by Shane’s standards, and it’s about 100 feet away from Ryan’s apartment.

When he cums later that night, in the safety of his own apartment, he’s moaning Ryan’s name but imagining his hands around Ryan’s throat.

* * *

He walks into work the next day and Ryan is as white as a god damn sheet. Shane saunters over to his desk and pretends like he hasn’t noticed anything is different.

“Morning Ry.”

And Ryan physically recoils away from him. He looks like he’s been sobbing all damn morning and Shane wonder’s why he’s even come into work. He also wonders if maybe he took things too far last night. His impulse control has never been the best. Ryan kind of just stares at him blankly and Shane realizes he probably needs to say something.

“Jesus Ryan, are you okay?” he asks, and concern is almost real because he’s beginning to worry that he’s broken his favourite thing here, “You look like shit.”

Ryan looks down at his lap and nods and Shane knows he’s obviously fucking lying.

Fuck this.

He grabs Ryan’s arm, earning a loud yelp in response, and drags Ryan towards an empty meeting room. He shuts the door behind them and releases Ryan’s arm. Ryan rubs the spot where Shane’s hand just was and it occurs to him that he may have gripped it too hard.

“Ryan, what is it?”

There’s no facade now.

He doesn’t try to sound nice about it, he’s aware that it sounds a little callous, a little cold. But making Ryan fall in love with him has been a failed endeavour for a while now so honestly it doesn’t matter that much anymore.

“100 feet.” Ryan finally says in an almost whisper.

“What?”

“100 feet, from my apartment,” Ryan lets out a choked noise, “He’s moving closer, he’s-” Shane knows he’s screwed up now.

“Ry, it’s just a coincide-”

“He’s punishing me,” Ryan’s voice is raspy and cracking but it’s angry, “He’s punishing me, for the shit I said yesterday.”

Fuck. Ryan knows, Ryan is so close to putting the pieces together and Shane wonders if this is the part where he finally gets caught.

“But nobody heard me say those things,” Ryan continues, and his eyes meet Shane’s with an intensity that sets his whole body on fire, “Nobody heard me say those things except- except for you.”

There it is.

The game is up.

So, for the first time in years, Shane takes the mask off.

He waits for his silence to give him away.

“You would get this look on your face whenever I talked about him- you-” Ryan says, “It was this blissed out look like you were happy that I was interested in what you were doing.”

Shane smiles despite himself and Ryan’s reaction is instantaneous, he visibly tightens.

“Are you doing this for me?” Ryan asks and his voice is so soft.

“Yes and no.”

Ryan loudly swallows but keeps his eyes on Shane. It’s the bravest Shane has ever seen him, staring a serial killer straight in the face with a determination for answers. It’s almost admirable, if not incredibly stupid.

“D-do you get off on it?” Ryan asks when it becomes clear Shane isn’t going to elaborate. If he really wants to know.

“Very much so,” and Shane can’t resist winking because Ryan’s terror is palpable, and the game is up anyway so he might as well have some fun.

Ryan resolves crumbles a little but surprisingly he continues with his list of questions, “Do you feel guilty at all?”

“No.”

Ryan’s mouth opens and closes, “How can you not?”

“Quite easily,” he replies, because it’s true.

“So you’re a psychopath or something?” asks Ryan Shane hates the term.

Really hates it. Just like he hated that shrink. “

So I’ve been told, it’s not really called that though technically.”

Ryan nods his head like he’s agreeing with him,

“So you’ve seen somebody about this?”

He really don’t want to get into this fucking story but then- Ryan hasn’t run yet. Ryan hasn’t called the cops, Ryan is sitting here asking him questions because he’s curious. He’s intrigued by this side of Shane, whether he’ll admit it or not, and Shane kind of wants to give him a show. He tells the truth, but omits some the details,

“Not by choice, my ex-girlfriend noticed something funny and made me see a shrink.”

“How did I not notice then?” and he can’t tell if Ryan is asking Shane that or himself.

“I’m very good at this,” he explains, “I’ve had years of practice.”

“Yeah you really fucking are,” Ryan mutters under his breath and Shane can’t help but laugh a little.

At this point Shane is just bathing in it because it’s the most attentive Ryan has ever been towards him, “Thank you.”

“So when you act-“ Ryan suddenly stops, and _huh_ Shane hasn’t seen that look before, “So when you act like you care about me you don’t- you don’t really care do you?”

Oh.

_Oh Ryan._

Ryan’s fallen for him. It’s written all over his face. That’s why he’s being crying. He’s not scared he’s upset. Shane doesn’t know what love is, he doesn’t know if he’s even capable of returning Ryan’s feelings. Yet it’s intoxicating, Ryan’s attention has been on him when he hasn’t even noticed, Ryan’s attention could be on him forever. And Ryan’s gorgeous body could be underneath him. Maybe, he’ll get the opportunity to wrap his hand around Ryan’s neck. Ryan is in his reach, if he plays his cards right he could have Ryan utterly devoted to him and all he has to do is put on a damn enticing show.

“I’ve killed 14 people but the question you’re asking is if I really care about you?” he wants a confession, he wants a disgusting long declaration of undying love and he will pull out of Ryan by force if he has to.

“I-I want to know.” Shane smiles slyly and sits down on one of the office chairs, he crosses his legs and leans back, “Why?”

“I want to know,” continues Ryan, “How much of our friendship was a lie.”

And if he’s honest with himself- “None of it was a lie.”

Because it wasn’t, not really, he always has considered Ryan a friend. Even if he can’t exactly care in the way Ryan desperately wants.

“Again Ryan,” he keeps his voice light and teasing, “You seem awfully chill about the killing people thing.”

“I’m not chill about it!”

“No, you’re just conveniently glossing over it to talk about my feelings,” and Shane can tell he’s hit a nerve from the look on Ryan’s face.

_He will have that confession._

Suddenly Ryan blurts out, “Have you ever thought about killing me?”

He’s thought about choking him within an inch of his life while fucking him senseless. But Ryan hasn’t really died in any of those fantasies yet so, “No. Never.”

Ryan visibly untenses. “So um killing people-”

Shane chuckles, “Yes?”

“That-” and Ryan is flushed pink like he’s embarrassed and it’s so stupidly endearing, “That does it for you huh?”

Shane snorts, “Yes Ryan, that does it for me.”

“W-why-”

Shane just shrugs. Because really, he doesn’t even know the answer to that. “And is that- is that the only way-”

Ryan, Ryan, Ryan. Now you’re not even being subtle.

Shane laughs, “Is that the only way I can get off? Are you really going to try and ask that question and play it off as curiosity?”

“I-” Ryan’s eye are wide. Shane licks his lips. He’s got an opening here.

“Ryan,” he’s flying by the seat of his pants but he wants this, needs this, “If you want to find out, come over here, get on your fucking knees and find out.”

It’s more obscene that he would of liked, but Ryan’s closing the distance and Shane is absolutely fucking giddy. Ryan’s unreadable for the first time since they got here but his eyes are blown. It occurs to Shane that this serial killer thing may turn Ryan on, and as if that isn’t the hottest thought he’s ever had.

Ryan gently gets onto his knees and undoes Shane’s zipper before sliding down his jeans, leaving him in nothing but his underwear. He stops, stares up at Shane with big dark eyes like some kind of silent prayer, then proceeds to pull down his underwear. He’s hard already, has been since Ryan started his ridiculous line of questioning. Ryan stops again and Shane is about to say something when suddenly Ryan swallows around him entirely. And fuck he thinks he’s answered Ryan’s question loud and clear. Ryan has no idea what he’s doing, Shane can tell almost instantly. But he doesn’t particularly care and when he dares to look down the view of Ryan with dark lashes, bobbing up and down on his cock make him weak in the god damn knees. He pushes his hand into Ryan’s hair and yanks, causing Ryan to make this gorgeous choking sound as he gags. Yet he just keeps going and Shane knows that he’s not going to last much longer. So, he takes a hand, wraps it around Ryan’s throat, and applies pressure and Ryan fucking moans.

And that’s enough to send him tumbling over the edge, he cums down Ryan’s throat so hard he nearly passes out.

When he looks down again Ryan is swallowing his cum while make a face of utter disgust and it shouldn’t be as amusing to him as it is, but it is.

“That answer your question Ry?” Ryan gets off the floor and stands up, revealing the giant wet patch in the front of his own jeans and-

Oh.

He wasn’t the only one that came. He just hadn’t even noticed.

“I-I won’t tell the police,” says Ryan softly and Shane knows now that he has him, “I should- I should probably get back to work um.”

Before Shane has time to react, Ryan is kissing him gently.

Then he’s gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M BACK BITCHES 
> 
> Yeah so apparently everyone liked this and I have a fuckload of time on my hands since I lost my job so uh here is my procrastination from writing my book lmao

He sits and waits.

For the SWAT team to come banging down the door. For the helicopters. For the sirens. Yet they never come, there's nothing but the steady whir of cars going past his apartment window. Or the hum of crickets. Occasionally he does hear a siren, his heart leaps into his throat, but it quickly passes by. He looks down at his book, licks his fingers to flick the page. He'd picked it up after the first hour, something to keep his brain occupied. His mind is like a honey bee, constantly buzzing. It's nothing without a flower, without nectar to suckle on. A honey bee without a purpose, without a queen bee to serve, is a pointless existence.

So maybe Ryan is his queen.

The buzzer goes off.

_Huh._

Guess they took the silent detective route then.

Which is fine, he can work with that. But he can't bump the detective off in his living room. That simply leads a trail right back to him. Like shitting in somebody's back yard, the stench will give him away.

He needs to lead the detective away first and foremost.

He places the book down on the coffee table. Surveys his apartment. Thankfully his apartment is not the crime scene, which works to his advantage. There's no evidence, he has nothing to hide. Kitchen knives are in everybody's kitchen. Plenty of people own black leather gloves. He can relax in that regard.

The buzzer goes off again.

He realizes that he's taken a suspiciously long time to answer, which implies he's taking the time to hide something. Which as he has already established, he doesn't need to. He turns the handle, opens the door.

And _oh_ , it's Ryan.

Ryan has taken it upon himself to get all dolled up. His hair's gelled back, he's scented of sweet cologne, and he's shifting nervously like a teenager arriving on a first date. With an unsure smile.

"Hey man."

He snorts, _"man"?_

_You just sucked him off a few hours ago, come on Ryan._

He almost places the mask on but then realizes he doesn't have to now. Which is a new and interesting thought.

He smiles vindictively, "Oh so we're back to being bros again?"

Ryan pales, stammers, "I um- I uh-"

"No, I get it," he's taking it a bit too far now, but it's just so much fun, "Just bros helping bros. Bros sucking each other's dicks."

Ryan looks like he's about to upchuck on the doormat, which is absolutely hilarious.

He says softly, "That was-that was kind dumb wasn't it?"

He laughs humourlessly, "A little,” he gestures inside his apartment, "Are you done making an idiot of yourself?"

Ryan nods quickly and follows him inside.

He then hovers around Shane's living room for a few minutes before sitting himself down on the couch. He's looking down at his lap, fidgeting with his hands. Shane's rather intrigued as to why he's here, and all the delicious connotations that could be attached to that.

Ryan came back.

Ryan came back to _him._

He goes to the fridge, grabs Ryan a beer. He hopes a little alcohol might unclamp him a little, loosen that nice tight hole for fucking.

He comes back and places the beer in Ryan's hands, "Drink. You'll feel better."

Ryan just nods dumbly again, takes two long swigs of the drink, then places it back down at the coffee table.

Ryan then stares at the bottle, exhales slowly, "So."

He sits down next to him, with the appropriate amount of distance for the time being, “So?”

“That uh shouldn’t have happened.”

 _Oh_ , so that’s the way Ryan’s going to go here.

“Oh really?” he gently nudges the drink back into Ryan’s hands, “And uh, pray tell why is that exactly?”

And really it’s a shame, that they’re going to have to do things the hard way now. Such a damn shame.

Ryan takes another sip, bounces his leg, his eyes darting around the room, “I’m not you know.”

So apparently Ryan is going with, no homo, right out of the gate. How juvenile. How absurd.

 _Ah well_ , he does always love a good struggle.

“Oh, course not,” the sarcasm drips like acid from his lips, “You just suck all your friend’s cocks, just for kicks”

Ryan visibly wincing at the word cock, skulls back some more beer, finishing the bottle entirely, “I was just experimenting I- I wanted to know what it was like. Don’t ask me why dude.”

He snaps, just a little, “Call me dude one more time and I’ll choke you again, you’ll enjoy it too.”

Ryan’s jaw drops open, he gapes at him, then asks a small voice, “Can I have another beer?”

He’s happy to oblige.

He goes into the kitchen grabs another beer and comes into the room again to find Ryan shifting uncomfortably.

Interesting.

He gives Ryan beer number two before sitting back down again, “So you obviously didn’t turn me in.”

Ryan straightens up a little, as if mustering courage, “And you haven’t killed me yet.”

_Cute._

It’s like watching a kitten growl, adorable but harmless.

Shane laughs, “Why would I do that? You’re my favorite plaything.”

He knows he didn’t miss that, the way Ryan shivered at that word. Plaything. His favorite one too.

He has a terrible habit of breaking his playthings though, unfortunately.

But Ryan very obviously likes this. He’s never had somebody so willing. So, _wanting_. Eyes wild a begging him for it.

But then Ryan just has to go open his pretty little mouth of his and ruin it, “It was fun okay? But it shouldn’t happen again it was- it was wrong.”

He has to stay calm, not fly off the handle and destroy his fun new toy.

He fakes a smile, “I understand.”

“Y-you do?”

He places a gentle hand on Ryan’s shoulder, “Of course Ry. Let’s just forget it ever happened.”

Ryan leans into his touch, like the dirty little liar he is, “Cool and um. Thanks.”

So, they have to do things the hard way. Which is fine, Ryan’s worth it. Ryan is so worth it. He has a dose of Rohypnol that should do the trick. He just needs Ryan to be drunk enough to slip it in, which is achievable. Ryan drinks when nervous, he’ll skull the nearest liquid. Shane just needs to keep him drinking, and nervous, and Ryan will do the rest for him.

Ryan has already finished his second beer, which helps move things along.

He comes back with a third, Ryan smiles as he takes it, “Thanks.”

_Like giving candy to a baby._

“So uh,” Ryan’s body is starting to shift again, he huffs out a little laugh, “I still kinda can’t believe I know a serial killer. Still letting that one sink in.”

He inches a little closer, “And I can’t believe you’re okay with it.”

Ryan flushes, “I not!”

“Mm,” he gently touches Ryan’s leg, begins to swirl his thumb in tiny circles, “Then why are you here?”

“I research crime for a living I-” Ryan looks down at his lap, takes a sip of beer number three, “I guess I was curious? It’s not every day you get to talk to a serial killer.”

_Not every day you get to blow one either._

He leans back in his seat, stretches one arm behind Ryan’s shoulder and rests it there with no resistance, “You have more questions I take it?”

Rye leans back into it, “Yeah I mean I have fucking heaps man.”

The dudebro act is just getting irritating now, they’re long since past that phase of existence.

He bites his tongue, bides his time, “Ask away.”

“How do you um- do it? And get away with it?”

He leans in, “Careful planning.”

“The bodies were disgusting Shane,” and Ryan doesn’t look nearly as repulsed as he should be however, “They were mincemeat, how did you even- how did you even do that?”

He shrugs, “Adrenaline is one hell of a thing.”

Ryan finishes of beer number three with another skull back, “What about the noise? The screaming must be so loud, they would be in so much pain.”

He shrugs again, “I have gags, sometimes clothing does the trick. The sound is an added turn-on.”

“So _that’s_ what that was,” Ryan places the empty beer on the coffee table, scootches in a little closer, “Was that also why they were all naked?”

He grins, what a fun question, “Let just say Ryan, they took off their clothes more than willingly.”

Ryan’s eyes widen, “Oh.”

That’s the moment he decides to go get that final beer and take a trip to his medicine cabinet. Ryan is swaying slightly from side to side, a tell-tale sign that the alcohol has done the trick. He could get him drunker, but he’s not interested in drunk Ryan. He wants him nice a sober and begging for it.

And he will have him like that, one day.

For now, he slips the drug into the beer and takes it back out to an unsuspecting Ryan. Presents to Ryan who takes it more than willingly.

Ryan just keeps drinking, “So did Unsolved give you any ideas?”

“Plenty,” he says, inching back into Ryan’s personal space, “Mainly, what not to do. Most of those idiots got caught.”

Ryan begins to look a little dazed, he slumps, presses a hand to his head, “I um- I feel super sick all of a sudden.”

Perfect, “Let me drive you home.”

Ryan nods, gets up only to stumble forward a couple of steps and fall again. He gently helps Ryan up, guides him out of the apartment and down the stairs.

_Jesus Christ Ryan is heavy._

By the time Ryan’s in the backseat of his car he’s almost out cold, he’s mumbling about something Shane doesn’t really care about. The plan is going extremely well, almost too well if he’s honest, he keeps expecting something to go wrong. He begins to drive, to his favorite spot.

There’s a little house, on the other side of LA, with under fake name and cash only rent. His little slice of paradise. It’s where he takes the boys for more, involved activities when he feels inclined. It’s the perfect place to keep Ryan while he figures out his next move. It’s got all his equipment and a large basement that’s perfect. Perhaps he could redecorate it a little, make it homely for Ryan.

Maybe one day Ryan will want to be there.

Getting Ryan out of the car proves extremely difficult. He’s not unconscious, but he’s damn close. Absolutely delirious and totally uncooperative. It takes half his energy reserve just to get Ryan in the door, and down the stairs. He deposits Ryan on the basement bed, a small metal cot, and then goes to sort out a way to keep him there. Because eventually Ryan is going to come to, and realize what’s happened, and then he’ll scream and cry and _bla bla bla._ The point is Ryan can’t go anywhere, not ever again.

Ryan is his now.

When he comes back down into the basement, equipment in hand, Ryan’s completely passed out.

Thank god for that.

So, he gets to work, cable ties Ryan’s arms and legs to the cot. Gently straps a ball gag around his mouth, to prevent the inevitable screeching that he knows it coming. It’s a beautiful site, Ryan all stretched out for him like this. Totally vulnerable, totally at his mercy. It’s so intoxicating his hands begin to stroke himself on his own. He stops however, there will be time for that.

He goes back upstairs, picks a book up off of the shelf, and goes back to his reading.

* * *

He’s dozed off by the time he can hear the muffled screaming that signifies Ryan coming too.

_Huh._

He thought that gag would do a better job. Perhaps it slipped off.

_Ah well._

He patters downstairs to discover that that has in fact been the case. Ryan is going at it, struggling against the restraints, thrashing with white-knuckled terror.

Ryan clocks him on the other side of the room and growls, “Shane you _fucker._ ”

He smiles, crossing his arms as he leans against the wall, “Morning sleeping beauty.”

Ryan continues to squirm for a moment, then slows down.

“You drugged me,” Ryan croaks, finally seeming to realize that his kicking and screaming is pointless.

“An astute observation Ryan.”

And now, no long thrashing in his net, Ryan just looks hurt. Betrayed. Like he hit him, and now he’s freshly bruised and wondering _why_.

“Are you-” stammers Ryan, “Are you going to kill me? Is that the endgame here?”

 _How ridiculous_ , “Never,” he makes the motion of clutching pearls, “How could you think such a thing? We’re friends.”

“Friends don’t drug friends,” Ryan grits out.

He shrugs, begins to circle Ryan’s bed, “So now we’re not friends? How convenient for you,” he runs his fingertips down Ryan’s thigh, Ryan flinches away, “I suppose this means blow jobs are back on the table then.”

“I’m not fucking touching you,” Ryan spits back into his face, bucking against the restraints.

He grins, trails his knuckles down Ryan’s cheek, “You’ll come around.”

Ryan turns away from him, “You’re sick.”

He gently manages to kiss Ryan’s cheek despite his constant movement, he whispers softly into his ear, “So are you, Ryan.”

And with that, he goes back upstairs to get breakfast ready.

* * *

When he comes back down, bacon and eggs in hand, he sees that Ryan has obviously been crying. His eyes are red and puffy, his nose is running, there’s tears still wet against his cheeks. Which is fine. He can wait until Ryan’s ready to be a big boy about their blossoming relationship. He’s got plenty time.

He brings a forkful to Ryan’s lips, Ryan clamps his mouth shut, Shane sighs, “There’s no need to be difficult.”

Ryan spits in his face, “Go rot.”

_Well if that what they’re doing._

He wipes the saliva off his faces, grabs Ryan’s cheeks and squeezes his mouth open before scooping in the eggs, “Swallow, come on.” Ryan does as he’s told thankfully but he doesn’t look happy about it.

He smiles, “See? That wasn’t so hard was it?”

Ryan chokes, more tears, “Why are you doing this to me?”

He strokes Ryan’s hair, Ryan tries to move away from his touch unsuccessfully, “You insisted on being in denial about us.”

“You were my best friend Shane,” Ryan’s voice cracks, “I trusted you. You- you’re a fucking monster. You can’t be him. You’re not Shane anymore.”

“Oh Ryan,” he tosses the breakfast onto the floor, “Shane never really existed.”

Then, he heads upstairs to get ready for work. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M A HORRIBLE HUMAN BEING FOR WRITING THIS. 
> 
> Also uh go listen to Garbage by Tyler the Creator, that is a whole ass mood for this fic. 
> 
> I'M SO SORRY SHANE.

It’s a ticking time bomb now, waiting to go off.

People ask where Ryan is, calls are made to Ryan’s dead phone, there’s no answer. He plays dumb, pretends he had no idea where Ryan is. Says he’ll go check his apartment on the way home.

He realizes now, he’s going to have to report Ryan missing.

Which fine, but first he needs to get his ducks in a row. Needs to set up a story for them to find. Ryan needs to look dead, because as long as people are looking for Ryan, he’s on borrowed time. They can’t trace Ryan back to _his_ apartment.

He needs to get rid of Ryan’s car.

Which is fine, he can just fish Ryan’s keys out of his pocket, drive out a little way, and dump it in a ditch.

But he still needs to craft a narrative, one that lends itself to Ryan being dead and gone.

A suicide, perhaps.

And he can get Ryan to write the note, although it will be like pulling teeth. But he can be very _persuasive_ when he wants to be. He’s certain that with the right method he can get Ryan to do it.

He drives back to the house, comes back down the stairs, to find Ryan despondent. Staring at the wall in total resignation. He’s long since stopped crying, his wrists bleeding now from all the struggling but he remains calm. He doesn’t acknowledge him. He comes over, reaches into Ryan’s pocket to get the keys. Ryan doesn’t move to stop him, he just stares resolutely ahead. 

“I’m going to need you to write something for me, Ryan.”

Ryan turns his head towards him, snarls, “I’m not doing jack shit for you.”

He goes to the door, padlocks it shut, “That’s a damn shame, because those wounds of yours could get infected.”

Ryan turns away, “I don’t care.”

Comes back to Ryan, pulls him by his hair so he has to look at him, “You want to die? Slowly? Painfully?”

Ryan chokes out, “No.”

“You know, we could get you out of those restraints, you could have a little walk around,” he smiles at Ryan, “You’d have to stay down here of course, but wouldn’t it be nicer than be chained to the bed?”

Ryan sniffles, exhales, “What do I have to write?”

He loosens the restraints, enough for Ryan to sit up and hold a pen and paper. He places them in his hands, with a book for Ryan to lean on.

“Your suicide note.”

Ryan chokes again, sobs, “You said you weren’t going to kill me.”

He runs his fingers through Ryan’s hair, kisses his forehead, “Shh shh it’s okay, I’m not going to.”

“Then why-”

“People are wondering where you are,” he explains, “And we can’t have them looking for you, they wouldn’t understand us.”

“There is no _us_ ,” Ryan bites back.

He smiles again, “Oh but there will be.”

Ryan huffs, “So what do you want me to write?”

“Be creative, speak from the heart,” he brings his lips against Ryan’s ear, “Why would you want to kill yourself Ryan?”

“I-I don’t _know_.”

“But you do,” he strokes Ryan’s hair, “Don’t you? You _hate yourself_.”

“N- no I don’t.”

“Well you better come up with something quick,” he whispers, hot and heavy, “Because I haven’t got all afternoon.”

Ryan begins to slowly write out something on the piece of paper, pausing occasionally to think before writing some more. Eventually, he has a reasonably sized note, signed by Ryan. He snatches it out of Ryan’s hands.

He skim reads it.

_Dear friends and family._

_I'm sorry I wasn't better, wasn't stronger. But I can't do this anymore,_

_can't live this life that I've been given._

_I love you all, goodbye._

- _Ryan_

It’s _perfect_ , just the right amount of self-loathing and a pity party with streamers and all. He kisses Ryan’s cheek then takes the note, and Ryan’s car keys, and undoes that padlock on the door.

Ryan’s face crumples, “W-wait but you said-”

“Oh,” he grins, “Of course, I’ll undo them, and soon as I get back from my errands.”

He slams the door and locks it behind him.

When he arrives at Ryan’s apartment the sun’s just setting, painting the sky in orange and pink hues. He unlocks the door, walks into the living room, and leaves a note on the table.

He drives back to his apartment, unlocks Ryan’s car and begins to drive to the edge of the city, far enough that the car won’t be found for a while. He unlocks the door, bails just before the car sinks beneath the water of the river. He still ends up having to swim, soaking wet, which is just a little bit irritating.

_Shit._

He has to get back now. 

If he calls an uber or a taxi, and the police check the records he’s in trouble. He’d have no reason to explain why he was this far away when he was supposed to be checking on Ryan. He needs to get back to Ryan’s apartment before he reports him missing, play the good friend.

He’s screwed the timing too, his work colleagues saw him leave hours ago.

And it wouldn’t take that long to get to Ryan’s apartment. He needs an alibi as to why it took so long. Something watertight, pun unintended. He also needs to dump these damp clothes, it’s not a good look.

He begins to walk, _fuck fuck fuck fuck_ , he’s messed up this whole damn thing.

He’s just walking down the highway when a green Fiat pulls over, a young woman with short brown hair rolls down the window.

She smiles at him, “You look like you could use a lift.”

 _Thank god_ , “Could I ever.”

He gets into the passenger side, “Thank you so much um-”

“Ellie,” she turns on the heater, “Better? It’s the middle of winter and you’re soaking wet you must be freezing.”

“Yeah, I uh-” _shit_ , “It’s a long story.”

“Don’t worry,” she says, grinning, “I won’t ask any uncomfortable questions.”

_Thank Christ._

They drive back into the city in silence, listening to the radio, he tells her the address. He’s bloody lucky, he almost screwed up everything there. He has to be more careful in the future.

It doesn’t take long to realize she’s going in the total opposite direction.

Random people don’t just pick up random strangers on the road. He should have known she would have ulterior motives. He just needs to figure out what those are. Quickly too, or those tables are going to be turned on him.

She stops in a car park, totally deserted, and sighs, “I’m curious, what on earth were you doing swimming in the river?”

He decides honesty couldn’t hurt, “I was ditching a car.”

“Ahh,” she says, “You know, you shouldn’t get in strangers’ cars.”

“I was desperate.”

She laughs, “Yes, I can see that, what was your name again?”

“Shane.”

“Shane,” she repeats, “Why were you ditching a car, Shane?”

“I’m not answering that question until I know why you’re asking, Ellie.”

She smiles again, pulls something out of the glove box. It’s a large bag, a large bag filled with white power.

He knows what coke looks like

“It seems like we’re both doing illegal things tonight,” she says, place the bag back in the glove box, “Now, I suspect you’re going to need an alibi, am I wrong?”

He doesn’t particularly want to do deals with a drug dealer.

But he is desperate.

“I’ll give you one,” she continues, “You were helping me, a friend, with a family emergency, but you owe me a favor.”

“Done,” he has no intention of doing said favor, but he can deal with her later, bump her off when he’s less vulnerable.

By the time she’s driven back to Ryan’s apartment, it’s nearly dark. Which is worrying, he hopes she’ll keep her word. Thankfully his clothes are almost totally dry.

She hands a piece of paper, “My number, you can give it to the cops when they start sniffing around.”

He gives her his best smile, “It was a pleasure doing business with you, Ellie.”

She smiles back, waves, “I’ll be in touch.”

He knocks on Ryan’s apartment door, knowing full well nobody is home. Then dials 911.

“911 what’s your emergency?”

He puts on the mask, imitates a sob, “My friend he’s- he’s not picking up his phone, and his car’s not at his apartment. He didn’t show up for work. I’m scared something’s happened.”

“Breathe for me sir, we’ll send some officers over to check on him, okay?”

He gives her the address, “Thank you so much.”

He hangs up the phone and _smiles._

* * *

When the officers arrive, he acts absolutely distraught and when they break in to discover the note, forces those crocodile tears.

A detective is called, an old blonde woman, who pulls him aside, “So when was the last time you saw Mr. Bergara?”

“Oh god, like yesterday? At work?”

She nods, writes it down on her notepad, “And nobody has seen him since?”

He keeps his voice nice and shaky, “H-he didn’t show up for work, and I thought maybe he was just sick and his phone was dead.”

“Mm, and what time did you arrive here to find the car gone and the apartment empty?”

“Like, less than an hour ago?” he says quietly, “I got caught up helping a friend, I was going to swing by sooner but _fuck_ \- what if I could have stopped him?” He breaks off into more broken sobbing.

She sighs, puts a gentle hand on his shoulder, “You can’t blame yourself. I doubt there’s anything you could have done.”

_Dumb bitch._

“Go home, rest, we’ll contact you if we have any more questions.”

He sniffles, wipes his nose, “Thank you so much, ma’am.”

* * *

When he finally gets back to the house it’s nearly midnight. Ryan’s fallen asleep after having pissed himself, the stench is vile. He undoes the restraints entirely and Ryan remains asleep, obviously exhausted from struggling for hours. He carefully rolls Ryan over to change the sheets, then strips Ryan naked to change his clothes. He has some spare in the house, in case his own got covered in blood. Then he gives Ryan a sponge bath. Ryan is gorgeous naked, lean rippling muscle. Gorgeous pink cock. He doesn’t touch him, although it is tempting. Bathed and dressed, he padlocks the door, gives Ryan a gentle kiss on the head, and heads back to his apartment.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a small chapter to let y'all know I'm not dead and this isn't dead, I'm just bogged down with college work. 
> 
> Enjoy you evil evil creatures.

When he comes back to the house, a day later, Ryan in better spirits.

Really, anything would have been an improvement, but at least he’s not crying or screaming anymore. Instead he sits, legs curled into his chest, in the corner of the room. He stares resolutely ahead, doesn’t acknowledge Shane when he walks in.

He places a subway sandwich in front of him, “Eat. You’ll feel better.”

Ryan picks up the sandwich, devours it messily. Like nobody is in the room. It occurs to him that he forgot to feed him properly, like forgetting to feed a goldfish. And the last thing he wants is to find Rye floating face up. He sits down cross-legged in front of him, watches for a while.

When Ryan seems to be finished, he asks, “How are you feeling?”

Ryan hisses back, “How the fuck do you think I’m feeling Shane.”

That’s enough disrespect.

He grabs Ryan’s throat, Ryan gasps in surprise.

His grip crushing, he asks, “Have you ever heard the phrase, “Don’t bite the hand that feeds you” Ryan?”

Rye wheezes, desperate for air, but nods.

He lets go of Ryan’s neck, sending Ryan into a coughing fit.

He smiles, his point has been made, “You would do well to remember that.”

He goes to stand but Ryan suddenly grabs his arm, “Wait.”

He looks down at Ryan, Ryan’s terrified brown eyes stare back at him, “Oh?”

“What- what do you want?”

Oh.

_Oh._

And just like that he holds the whole world carefully in his palm. He can cradle it, kiss it lovingly. Or he can crush it between his fingertips. The possibilities are endless. 

He leans down, into Ryan’s face, close enough that their lips almost touch. Close enough that he can hear Ryan’s breath catch in his throat.

“I want you to be mine.”

Ryan gulps, “W-what does that mean?”

“Oh, I think you know what that means.”

Ryan rocks backwards, as if considering something. Then he slowly stands up, so they’re face to face. Leans, closer and closer.

Until finally he’s pressing his lips against Shane’s.

Admittedly it feels, hesitant, reluctant. Like Ryan is desperately trying to hold back. Like he’s repulsed by what he has to do.

And that won’t do at all.

He pushes Ryan against the wall, with all of his body strength, Ryan hits the brick with a satisfying crack.

Then _he_ kisses him, properly this time.

It hot and heavy, biting and nipping, and after a bit of a struggle Ryan relaxes into it. Resolute. Defeated. So, he pushes further, pushes harder, threads his hands into Ryan’s hair and yanks it backwards. He bites down against Ryan’s neck, hard enough to taste copper in his mouth hard have Ryan scream loud and sharp. But he can feel Ryan against him, feel the rock-solid bulge rubbing against his leg.

_The little slut._

And that’s the exact point he makes a mistake, lets his guard down just enough, for Ryan to get the upper hand. Ryan pushes him, and his fitness shows because Shane goes flying, landing on his ass with a thump. Ryan then sprints to the door, shaking the handle, smashing the padlock with his fist. But the door locks from both sides, with combination locks, because he’s not a fucking idiot and not some amateur. He’s a fucking god, he plays with life and death.

Sometimes gods have to give out a divine punishment to those who don’t obey.

In other words, once again, Ryan wants to do things the hard way.

Ryan is still shaking and bashing and truly it’s laughable. Futile and pointless, but still as amusing as pulling the legs of a spider. Rendering it immobile and harmless. With all that muscle Ryan is formidable, but that doesn’t matter. Because he’s a god damn deity, and eventually Ryan will submit,

Or face his wrath.

Once Ryan realises that that it isn’t opening, he begins to sob again, sliding down against the metal door.

He gets back onto his feet, dusts himself off, “Now that was a bit silly, wasn’t it?”

Ryan turns to him, croaks a broken and sobbing, “ _Please._ ”

He approaches Ryan, predatory. Stops right in front of him. He threads his fingertips into Ryan’s hair and pulls him away from the door, Ryan yelps. He’s presses his foot into his stomach, hard.

Then he laughs, just stands there and _laughs_ , “You’re pathetic. Don’t beg to me, I’m not listening,” he kicks Ryan is the guts again, “Let this be a little lesson for you,” he stomps down one last time for good measure, “I own you. You live in my world now Ryan.”

Ryan curls up into a fetal position, begins to ugly cry _again._

Which just isn’t fun, or sexy, it’s just starting to get irritating more than anything. That little phrase, about catching more flies with honey pops into his head. He pauses, pondering it for a moment.

That’s enough vinegar for one day perhaps.

He crouches down next to Ryan and spreads that honey by gently petting his hair.

“Shh don’t cry, it’s okay.”

Ryan leans into his touch, clearly too exhausted to kick and scream about his affection anymore. Which suits him just fine. He gently wraps his arms Ryan’s broken body. Holds him until the sobs soften into sniffling. Then he helps Ryan up, which Ryan allows him to do, before laying onto the bed.

He gently raises Ryan’s shirt to reveal the purpling bruises of his stomach.

He checks him over, it doesn’t seem to have done much, but he’s going to be pissed if there’s internal bleeding. He should have been less reckless.

He wants Ryan alive.

He pulls the covers over a shaking Ryan. Then curls up next to him, holds Ryan in his arms. Ryan again doesn’t fight it. Doesn’t even flinch. He just rests against Shane’s chest.

Together, they fall asleep.

* * *

When he wakes up to his alarm, Ryan is back in his little corner.

And really, he’s not surprised. Ryan’s still processing this new existence. It will take a long time for Ryan to want to sleep next to him. But Ryan will learn to love him, one day.

He’ll wait for the rest of their lives if he has too.

He tries to be kinder, “Ryan, come back to bed.”

Ryan looks at him, snaps back, “I’m alright, thanks.”

“Ryan you know I’m sorry,” he’s not, but saying that would defeat the purpose entirely, “You just scared me is all, I didn’t mean to lash out,” more sugary sweet honey, “Just come back to bed, please, you’re going to catch a cold over there.”

Ryan sighs, gets up, and dragging his feet as he shuffles over to the bed. Rolling in next to him. Shane envelopes his arms around him, kisses his hair.

“See? Isn’t this nicer?”

Ryan nods against his chest. Screws his eyes shut.


End file.
